The Art of The Deal
by SizzlR
Summary: Lincoln really wants to get a new video game, but he's a little strapped for cash. So he and Clyde do what any young entrepreneur would do: start a lemonade stand. Fortunately, he might get some help from an unlikely source...
1. Chapter 1

"There it is, Clyde! Total Turbo XXIII! The newest installment in one of the best franchises EVER!"

Lincoln and Clyde looked through the store window at the new video game.

"Look, the mall is NOT my first choice to go to on a Saturday," Lincoln said to no one in particular. "But Lori is driving the car. And when Lori is driving, you go where she wants before going anywhere else. And today, I guess that means the mall. No problem, though! Until we get to the Comic Book Store, we get to look through the Gamestop window!"

"Uh, Lincoln, I don't mean to burst your bubble or anything, but have you taken a look at the price yet?"

He quickly glanced at the price tag, immediately wishing that he hadn't.

"120 dollars?! For just a video game?!"

"Well, no. They have new controllers you need to buy, too."

"Ugh, Clyde, this is awful! I've been wanting this game for so long now, and it costs a small fortune! Wait, how much money do you have right now?"

"Uh, a couple of dimes and a bolt. I don't think that'll be enough, though."

"Well, I have 3 dollars. So we need some money, and we need it quick!"

"Uhh, why quick?"

"Clyde! This game is already a bestseller! If we don't buy it, then someone's bound to take it before us!"

"I think you may be going a little overboard with this idea, Lincoln. I mean, don't you think that- Huh, huh, HI, LORI!" Clyde said, his nose beginning to bleed as Lincolns oldest sister walked up to them. Pretty soon, he was on the ground, passed out.

"Ok, that is LITERALLY the grossest thing ever. Are you ready to leave yet, Lincoln?"

"Yeah, yeah, in a minute. Lori, you don't happen to have 120 dollars on you, do you?"

"Lincoln, even if I did, it here is literally no way that I would fork it over to YOU for some stupid video game."

"Oh, come on! This is the greatest game ever invented! And how did you even know I wanted a video game?"

"First off, Lincoln, I'm not an idiot. Ive seen you looking at that video game all day. And second, if you want money, why don't you just go out and earn it?"

"Hmm..." he thought. Earn it? He had never thought of that.

"Lori, that's actually a great idea! But how would I earn it, in the first-Wait, what are you drinking?"

"Uh, Lemonade? There's a stand right over there. Anyway, come on. I have to take you to the Comic Store now."

"Now? Why?"

"Uh, because my date with Bobby is tonight?"

"Lori, it's 10 A.M..."

"Lincoln, do you want me to look hideous tonight? I need to prepare for this."

"Good point. Actually, I think you can take us home now," he said, an idea forming in his head.

"Really? You want to go home?" She asked, slightly miffed that she had driven all that way for nothing.

"Yeah, that's it. I have a lot of work to do..."

"Yeah, well, wake up Clyde before you leave. I'll be in the car,"she said as she went and walked out of the mall.

Lincoln shook Clyde awake, telling him his plan.

"Clyde, forget the comic book store. We're going to be making money!"

"What? Where's Lori?" Clyde asked faintly as his eyes opened.

"We have to get home, Clyde! We're getting a lemonade stand!"

 **The Loud House...**

"Ugh, how hard is it to make a stupid lemonade stand?" Clyde asked as he unsuccessfully tries to nail two pieces of wood together.

"Focus, Clyde! We have to get this ready to use as a business by the end of the day!"

"Uh, why exactly the end of the day, Linc?"

"Uh, because of the fair on the town square tomorrow? There's gotta be some money to be out there! And besides, we can use the extra profits from the stand to get some funnel cake afterwards!"

Hmmm... I do like funnel cake... OK, I'm still in! I'm just saying, though, I feel like we could've just gotten a table to put our stuf- OW! SPLINTER!"

"-sigh- this is gonna take a long time..."

"HEY!"

The two kids turned their heads to see a rather young police officer walking down the sidewalk.

"Oh, um, hello, officer. How are you?" Lincoln said, trying not to look nervous.

"What are you two doing?" The officer asked as his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, uh, we were just building a lemonade stand. Not really anythi-"

"Lemonade stand, you say? Can I see your vendors permit, then?"

"Our what?"

"Yep, just like I thought. Kids, Michigan state law requires all street sellers to have a license."

"Wait. If you don't mind me asking, who exactly are you? I've never seen my our by the police station..."

"Names Officer Edgar Santana. I just got out of college, and this is my day job. Not bad for a first assignment, either. I already have a noise complaint for you two!"

"What? Who would do tha-"

"Oh, thank goodness you're here, officer!" Lincoln second oldest sister Leni said as she came out the door. "This noise Is too loud for anyone to- oh, hey Linc! Hey, Clyde!"

"Leni? Why did you complain to the cops?!"

"Uh, because I couldn't get my beauty sleep? Seriously, you guys need to stop hammering so much..." she said as she walked back into the house.

"Uh, ma'am? You need to stay out here for a min... oh, screw it. Noise complaint dismissed. But you two still need a vendors license and all."

"Ok. How much do they cost?"

"Oh, only about 80 dollars, I think? Not that ba-uh, is he ok?" Officer Gomez asked as Clyde fainted again.

"Yeah, he's fine. But 80 dollars? We don't have that money!"

"Well, kid, if you don't have the money, then I can't let you run the stand. Sorry, it's just my job."

"There has to be a way around this..." Lincoln said as he began to pace back and forth in front of the policeman.

"You know, kid, I like you. I'm gonna cut you a deal here."

"Wait, really?"

"Oh, yeah! You're going to the fair tomorrow, right?"

"Yep! That's the stands first test run, in fact!"

"Wonderful! Ok, so here's the deal. If you get 80 dollars, then I'll give you the vending license. The rest is yours, but the first 80 is mine, got it?"

"Uh, I think so..."

"Awesome sauce, dude! And, uh, can you maybe put in a good word for me with that pretty lady friend of yours?"

"Who, Leni? Yeah, I guess so I can."

"Alright, then it's settled! First 80 is mine! Wait, I have a call..." he said as he pulled the walkie talkie from his belt.

"Officer Santana here...yes...no...what? The brick oven pizzeria is on fire?! No! That was where I ate my first Hawaiian Pizza! I'll be right there! Sorry, kid. I gotta go. See you tommorow," he said as he began to run off. From a distance, Lincoln heard him yell, "Pineapple and Ham, I'll avenge you!"

"Uh...ok. So, we need to earn, uhh... oh, wow. 200 DOLLARS. This will NOT be easy."

"Huh, what?" Clyde asked as he finally stirred from his brief nap.

"Clyde, go home. We'll use a folding table tommorow. But right now, we need to get all the rest we can get!"

"Oh, uh, Ok. See ya tommorow then," he asked is he walked back to his house.

For the rest of the night, Lincoln stressed over the coming day.

"I need to come up with 200 dollars... but how do I do that?" He thought as he ate dinner. "I've never even earned money before, really. Just my allowance. What if this fails? And no one buys? If the lemons are rotten?! Or the sugar is actually table salt?! Or the water is actually alcoholic-"

"Lincoln!"

"What, What?" He asked startled as he looked up to his parents. He could feel his face getting red as his 10 sisters began to laugh at him.

"Have you even touched your dinner yet?"

"Oh, um, no, not yet..."

"Well, eat it, then. We're all already halfway done, son. Catch up."

"Sorry, dad," he mumbled as he vagan to eat, thoughts still clouding his head.

 **That Night...**

Lincoln laid his head down on his pillow, ready to fall asleep. It had been an uneventful evening, which was an honest surprise to him. Usually in a house with 11 kids, no day is normal. But today was tame by most standards. In fact, the only thing noteworthy was a news report that evening...

 **-FLASHBACK-**

"And in other news, President Trump has announced the temporary shutdown of immigration from several high risk countries, citing rising reports of violence among-"

"Ridiculous!" Mr. Loud said. "He can't do that, can he?"

"Oh, I'm sure he's found a loophole in the law or something like that. Kids, when you're older, do us a favor and NEVER think like Donald Trump."

"Oh, come on, mom! So when I have a job interview, I can't play my Trump Card now? Ha ha ha! Get it?"

"Ha! Good one, sweetie!"

 **-END OF FLASHBACK-**

"Boy, I really need some advice right now..." he thought as he began to doze off.

"Just...just a little...little help..." he said softly as he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Lincoln woke up in the middle of the night. He looked over to his alarm clock, the time showing 1:30 A.M.

"Ugh, why do I always wake up so early? Seriously, I can't even get- wait, what?" He asked himself as he saw a yellow tuft of what looked to be feathers above his door.

"Geo, I thought I told you not to sleep in here," Lincoln said to what he assumed to be his families pet bird. But to his surprise, "Geo" quickly retorted.

"Kid, believe me. I am NOT a bird."

The lights were flicked on, revealing a man in front of him.

"AHH!" Lincoln yelled as he saw the man standing in front of his door. He was rather tall, his head almost reaching the top of the doorway. At least, with his hair. His hair was big and long, with a rather wig like apperance dotting the blondish hairdo. His face was young, with a cold, hard stare coming from the blue eyes.

He wasn't sure where he had seen it, but Lincoln knew he had seen the man before. He felt an odd sense of deja vu as he shakily asked the first question.

"W-who are you?"

"Wait, are you serious right now, kid? You don't know who I am?" The man asked in a rather New Yorkish accent.

"N-not really..."

"Wow. You don't get out a lot, do ya, kid? It's a shame, really. Kids these days don't really look up to me like they used to back in the day. Now it's basically burning cars and riots out there. "Not My President, my ass..." he rambled on.

Lincoln, who had gotten out of his initial state of awe, suddenly realized who the man was.

"Y-you're Donald Trump."

"No, I'm the Queen of England," he replied sarcastically. "Of course I'm Donald Trump, captain obvious."

"You're supposed to be the president right now..."

"You're right, aren't you? I should be in Washington DC, wasting my time with stupid bills and vetoes, visiting random foreign dignitaries, and being criticized by the news all the while. Whoop de dang doo."

"Umm..."

"Oh, I get it. You're just surprised to find the leader of the free world standing in your bedroom. Ok, I'll let you ask questions for a minute."

Lincoln, who had a lot of questions, started off with the obvious at first.

"How did you get into my house?"

"Kid, there is a LOT you don't know about me," Trump said, sitting down at the base of Lincolns bed.

"B-but how-"

"Ok, kid, I got a tight schedule here, so let's go. So what's the idea? A new invention? Record Company? Real Estate? Boy, I sure love real estate..."

"Uh, I really don't know what you mean, sir."

"Kid, call me Donald. I never cared for sir."

"Really? Then why do all your servants call you sir?"

"Well, kid, there's a difference between the fun me and the business me. When it's business me, I'm sir. Which, fortunately for you, it isn't. But that's beside the point!" He added, standing up. "Well? What business idea do you have?"

"Uh, I guess a lemonade stand..."

"Smh! Figures. Every young moneymakers dream, going to the front of their house and selling powdered water for 5 bucks a pop. Lincoln, if you really want money, then you have to get into real estate. That's where-"

Wait...how do you know my name?" Lincoln asked the businessman suspiciously.

"Lincoln, I don't want to sound creepy or anything, but I know everything about you."

"What?!" He asked slightly panicked.

Oh, yeah! Your birthday, your friends, all 10 of your sisters... I could go on, but I don't want to bore you, believe me."

"But, HOW?"

"Well, I am you, aren't I?"

"Huh?" Lincoln asked, now extremely confused.

"-sigh- Lincoln, this isn't real. You're dreaming right now. I AM you. I know everything about you because I'm a figment of your imagination."

"Really? So, you aren't really here? And I can just, wake up?"

"Well, that's how dreams work, don't they? And believe me, Lincoln, you are NOT gonna want to wake up from this one. This dream is going to be TREMENDOUS. It's going to be so yuge and big, like my net worth, that we're gonna get to-"

"Hey, Donald? Donald!" Lincoln waved his hand in Donalds face as he continued to ramble. Trump stopped, a confused look on his face.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I don't usually do that."

"Wait a minute...if you're Donald Trump, then why do you look so young? And why aren't you acting like the Donald Trump I see on TV? You know, build a wall and all that."

He looked down at himself, probably just realizing he was not the same guy he saw on TV.

"Oh, that. You see, Lincoln, I'm not the Donald Trump you see on TV. You know, the "Ban Muslins, Deport Them All, China" guy. No, this me is the young me. The businessman me."

"Umm, so, why were you talking like the presidential you?"

"Well, that isn't my fault. You're getting that presidential, future me mixed up in your head, which translates into the dream. So I'm basically young Donald who acts like old Donald."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Oh, I took a class in college. No big deal. But anyways, Lincoln, you need my help."

"What? Why?" He asked, wring to remember what he needed.

"Uh, because you want money to get a new video game?"

"Oh, yeah! Duh! But how exactly are you going to help me get my lemonade stand started?"

"Kid, it's all easy to me. I wrote a book about it."

He snapped his fingers, and a small, hardcover book appeared in the air in front of Lincoln. He grabbed it, reading the title out loud.

"The Art Of The Deal, by Donald J. Trump."

"Kid, that book is the most terrific and wonderful thing you're gonna be seeing today. Unless you're seeing my daughter Ivanka later. She's my daughter and all, but DAMN, she's really hot," he said, making his signature hand gestures.

"Um...ok? So, I read this book in my dream, and then when I'm done, I wake up?"

"Well, not exactly like that. There may be some reading, but honestly, that's for losers. And liberals. Anyways, Page 153."

"Ok, um..."Donald Trump's 11 Tips To Buisness."

"That's it! All you'll ever need to know to start up your own world dominating company!"

"Uh, this seems like a lot of work to put into a lemonade..."

"Lincoln, I wasn't the one worried about putting table salt into it at dinner today. But that's just my opinion."

"Ok, but how would I actually USE these steps? I dont-"

"That can be taught, my friend, through the power of your dreams. Take my hand," he said, holding it out to Lincoln.

"What?"

"Just do it. Ask questions later," he said, looking miffed.

"Umm, ok, I gues-AHHHHHH!" His mind screamed as the dream him was quickly flying through space time with the imaginary billionaire.

 **I want to thank everyone for the good reviews so far. And just a quick note, if you don't like parodies, don't read this story. It's jus good natured fun. And please no political debates in the comments. Save it for Facebook. Kiitos, from Rsizzle34.**


	3. Chapter 3

Before you could say "Borderwall," Lincoln found himself in a rather boring looking office. Looking around the room, he could see a few decorations, such as a framed comic book an the wall and his family portrait. In the middle of the room sat an ornately decorated desk. On it were pictures of memories of his childhood, from learning to ride a bike to his first day of school. Donald went over and sat behind the desk, putting his feet on the table.

"Welcome to Trump HQ, kid. This is where the big cheese comes to play the game of big buisness, so you could consider yourself honored."

"Where are we, Donald?" Lincoln asked, awestruck.

"Linc, don't you recognize the place? It's your mind! Your inner mechanisms!"

"Wait, we're in my head right now?"

"Correctamundo. And around here, I'm in charge."

"Wait, why are YOU in charge? Why not me?"

"Lincoln, I AM you. I can be anyone I want to be, honestly."

"So, you're Donald Trump because I want to get into buisness?"

"Lincoln, you learn fast, like me. I was a terrific learner, believe me."

"I don't doubt it, Donald."

"Kid, call me sir. I'm getting into the work place now," Donald said as a rather pretty lady walked into the office.

"Mr. Trump, here's a twelve page briefing on your responsibilities for today."

"Thank you, Marilyn," Trump said to his secretary. "You know, Marilyn, you never got back to me about that dinner we had planned last week."

"Mr. Trump, I respect you and all, but I have no intentions of being number 4. Have a nice day," she said, going as quick as she came, not even noticing Lincoln.

"Uh, what was that?"

"Oh, this? Just preparations for your day."

"What?"

"See, Linc, when you're asleep, we work. We get you ready to have the best day possible in here, so we don't have to worry about it during the day."

"So, like _Inside Out?"_

"NO! Nothing like Inside Out! That movie plagiarized us, in fact! I tried to have my lawyers sue Disney, but the judge was rigged against me. Seriously, it's like they-"

"Sir!"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. You probably want to learn now, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah! I'm ready to earn some cash!"

"That's the spirit, kid! Now, read step one out loud."

"OK, step one: "Think Big."

"THINK BIG! That's probably the most important step in the entire book, probably even the most important step in your life, too. So, what does that mean?"

"Um, think to the future?"

"Elaborate on it..."

"See yourself as the head of the industry's market?"

"WRONG!" he said, almost shouting it. "Actually, that isn't a bad idea. But still, WRONG!"

"Well, what DOES it mean?"

"Lincoln, where do you see yourself after you're done selling lemonade?"

"Oh, that's easy! Playing my awesome new video game!"

"See, THAT'S what you do. You set a small target for yourself, but make sure to put your desired result into it, too."

"But Donald, doesn't stopping at what you want contradict the actual ste-"

"OK, MOVING ON!" he shouted rather defensively. "Read step 2, please!"

"Oh, ok. Step 2: "Protect the downside and the upsi-"

"On second thought, that one is two hard to understand, so MOVING ON! 3, please."

"Ok, uh, step 3: "Maximize your Options."

"YES! The single most important step in the book!"

"But, I thought that-"

"So what do you think maximizing your options is, kid?"

"Umm, I don't know. Have a backup plan?"

"Sort of. You have to look at all of the possible SUCCESSFUL outcomes. You can't dwell on the past mistakes you've made, only learn from them."

"You must have learned a lot in your life, then..."

"Look here, kid, My ideas are the single yugest thing since sliced bread. I'm a veritable genius, believe me."

"Whatever you say, sir. So, can you elaborate a little, please?"

"Of course I can! The ideas I have are the single greatest things in recorded his-"

"No, don't elaborate on that! Step 3!"

"Oh, right! Uh, what was step 3, again?"

"Oh, boy..."

 **30 Minutes Later...**

"So, do you get it now?"

"Well, I get how you have an obsession with women. Especially when they're hot."

"I never said that! I've been happily married three times now, Lincoln! And I loved my wife's all equally! No one can change that!"

"You were flirting with your Secretary an hour ago!"

"Ok, so I may have a SLIGHT problem. So what? Step 4, please!"

"Step 4: "Know your Market."

"Ah, yes! I love this step! Lincoln, when's the last time you sold bathing suits during a rainstorm?"

"Umm, never?"

"And when was the last time you sold a meatball hoagie at a clothing store?"

"Never."

"Good! You know your market, then!"

"What?"

"Lincoln, people are not gonna buy when the market isn't suitable. I mean, would you want to wear a bikini during a blizzard?"

"I wouldn't want to wear a bikini, period."

"Exactly. You know your market, you sell more. Check the weather as soon as you wake up tommorow. If it's cold or snowing, don't go, even if it's July and it's virtually impossible to snow up here this time of year. STEP 5!"

"Ok, step 5: "Use your Leverage."

"Ok, Lincoln, let's say that your sister Leni is selling lemonade. Competition! Not good!"

"Yeah! I can't have any competitors! Although, not to be mean, I don't think Leni would be much competition..."

"It doesn't matter anyway. People are always attracted to a sexy face and body."

"Wait... did you just call Leni sexy?"

"MOVING ON! Ok, what dirt do you have on Leni? Anything?"

"Uh, she's afraid of spiders?"

"GREAT! Get a fake spider and put it in her glass pitcher!"

"Uhh, isn't that cheating?"

"What? No! I mean, if you don't get caught, at least. It's a common business tactic, kid. Step 6!"

"Step 6: "Enhance your Location."

"Ok, I think we need to step outside for this one. Take my hand again."

"Oh, boy. CLOSING MY EYES!" He yelled as they began through time and space again


	4. Chapter 4

Lincoln found himself face down on a stone surface. Slowly picking himself off the ground, he saw dream Donald staring off into the scenery.

"Uh, Donald, where are we?" He asked, noticing that they were on a rather big stone wall.

"Lincoln, my friend, we are in one of the most despicable, heartless, and evil places in the known world."

"Really? We're in school?"

"Even worse. We're in...CHINA!" he said in his signature voice as his eyes narrowed.

"Wait. Why exactly is China bad?"

"Lincoln, are you kidding me? China has been a horrible trade partner with the US for the past 40 years, probably the worst trade partner in the history of trade partners! And besides, they always get my order wrong at the official Trump Tower Chinese Restaurant! I ORDER THE SESAME CHICKEN, NOT GENERAL TSOS! GET IT RIGHT!" He shouted off the side of the Great Wall of China.

"Ok...so why are we here?"

"Oh, yeah! Step 6, read it."

"Ok, step 6 is..."Enhance your Location."

"Perfect! Ok, you're seeing all of this, right?"

"I do have eyes, in fact, Donald."

"Great, Lincoln...see, this may not look like it, but China is a big spot for industry. Like, YUGE. These chinese guys can work at over maximum capacity and be charged just a little over what I would pay Mexico for the border wall! That's about zero dollars, by the way."

"I got you. But why are the jobs here? Why not in the USA? Wasn't that a campaign promise of yours, in fact? To keep jobs in America?"

"Linc, bud, do you legitimately believe I would pay someone 15 DOLLARS AN HOUR for work they do? I mean, my son Barron could do chores for less than that! Of course, he doesn't really need to work at all, but hard work gets you places, kid!"

"Uh, what does this step have to do with my buisness?"

"Hmm...well, seeing that you aren't expanding into Kazakhstan anytime soon, I say you can forget about that one for now. Step 7!"

"Step 7: Get the Word Out."

"Walk with me, kid," Donald said, motioning for Lincoln to walk besides him on the top of the wall. He fell in step with the billionaire, walking a ways before they resumed talking.

"Lincoln, who is the most gossipy person you know? Like, the person that gets the word out about everything?"

"Umm...in my house, I guess that would be Leni."

"Ah, Leni. You know, if I wasn't a figment of your imagination, Lincoln, I would probably try to woo her."

"Ok, that is actually disgusting. How old are you, 60?!"

"Actually, I'm 70, But that's beside the point. The point is, you need to get a team of Lenis together."

"A team of LENIS?" He asked, imagining a group of entirely his older sister.

"Not a team of Lenis as in Leni herself... Just a bunch of people to get the word out too. THEN you tell them to spread the word, and BOOM! You have customers. And profit!"

"Well, that's common sense, isn't it? I mean, people give good reviews and then they buy?"

"Exactly! Step 8!"

"Step 8: "Fight Back."

"Yep! Ok, say you're running a Lemonade stand with Clyde. Then, he turns on you! What do you do?"

"Uh, um..."

"Actually, I have a better idea. I'll show you!" He said as they were suddenly at the fair.

"Woah! How did you... never mind. It's a dream."

"Thank me later, kid. Now, see Clyde over there, counting his profits that should be yours?"

"Uh, kind of? There's a big guy in front of me..."

"Ok, it's go time, Lincoln! Go tell Clyde what's going on!"

"Huh?"

"You know, the money distribution and stuff! You deserve the moolah too, right?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

"Great! Go get em, tiger!" The billionaire said as Lincoln went to get his cash.

"Uh, I don't really know what to do..." Lincoln said to himself as he walked up to the dream Clyde.

"Clyde? Uh, do I get any money?"

He glanced up to see his friend standing over him.

"Oh, hey Lincoln! Yeah, here's your share!" He said, handing him a thin stack of bills. At least, slimmer than Clydes stack of bills...

"Hey, aren't we splitting the profit 50-50?"

"Oh, yeah, about that... I was the one who supplied the lemons! And the sugar! I think I deserve more than you!"

"What? No way! I did work, too!"

"Yeah? Not enough, though! maybe you could contribute more to-OOF!" Clyde said as he was hit in the stomach by a fist.

"DONALD!" Lincoln yelled as the old man stooped down to grab Clydes share of the cash, rubbing his fist as he did.

"What? I was getting you the money you deserved!" He said as people began to notice the two.

"Hey, that old guy is stealing from that kid!"

"AFTER HIM!"

"Uh, oh... Lincoln, come here! We're going back to China!" Donald said as he glanced around, trying to see what sides the angry mob was coming from.

"Ah! Ok!" He said as he grabbed onto Trumps hand. Instantly, they were on the wall.

"OK, Lincoln, next time you decide to get your fair share, make sure I don't get murdered in the process," Donald said as he began to count the stolen money.

"Donald, WHY did you punch Clyde?!"

"That? Kid, don't ever expect a businessman to punch anyone. But I guess you could consider that right there a metaphor."

"A METAPHOR?! You punched a 5th grader in the stomach for 20 dollars!"

"Well, I saw it as an example of fighting for your share of profits! If you contribute to the operation, you get the same amount as everyone else. Remember that."

"Right...soooo, do you want me to go to the 9th step, now?" He asked, slightly miffed at the buisnessman.

"Oh, yeah! "Deliver the goods!"

"So are we gonna teleport anywhere for this one?"

"Nah. I'll explain it to you here. Lincoln, if you want to be the absolute best at something, like me, then you need to deliver. If you're selling lemonade, don't give your customers water mixed with powder! You need real lemons! Real sugar!"

"But, isn't all that expensive?"

"Well, I guess a little more expensive than the powder mix... but what do you care about more, the price or the quality?"

"Umm...I guess the quality?"

"Lincoln, with an attitude like that, you aren't going anywhere in the world of buisness."

"B-but you just said-"

"Step 10! Read it!"

"Geez, this is confusing...Uhh, Step 10: Contain the Costs."

"Lincoln, have you ever seen in a store the insane prices they charge people for average, everyday goods? Like how the milk is 2.50 a gallon?"

"Yeah? I hear my parents complain about stuff like that all the time."

"Well, that's an example of exactly what NOT to do. You need to make sure that your merchandise is at a reasonable price for people to buy it! If you significantly lower the price, than the people will love you!"

"Well, I guess that's common sense and all..."

"Lincoln, if you want to be successful, then you need to also follow the most important step of-"

"HEY!" Someone suddenly screamed in the distance. "THERE'S THAT GUY THAT HATES CHINA! GET HIM!"

Over the horizon, Lincoln managed to make out the outline of a group of tourists. Obviously, they did not look pleased. At all.

"Uh, Lincoln, I think that we should go now..." Donald said as he slowly backed up to Lincoln.

"I'm a step ahead of you, Donald. Let's go home!"

He grabbed onto Trump's hand, and they were suddenly back in Lincoln bedroom.

"Woah. Lincoln, next time you go to China, don't say my name. You're gonna get killed."

"I can see why...you trash talk the country every time you get on TV."

"Yep. Well, Lincoln, it's almost 7:30 A.M. This is where I leave you to try and sucees on your own."

"Uh, didn't you say there were 11 steps, Donald? You said something before the mob ran us out..."

"Oh, yeah. Step 11. "Have Fun."

"Have Fun?"

"Lincoln, no matter what you do, the other 10 steps would be irrelevant without step 11. If you don't have fun while running the buisness, then it really doesn't matter how hard you work or how much money you rake in. You're still not gonna be successful if you don't have a blast doing it."

"Do you have fun running your buisnesses?" Lincoln asked.

"Oh, yeah! If I had to restart my life, but choose anything that I wanted to do, I wouldn't change anything. I enjoy doing what I do, Lincoln. And I hope you enjoy it as much as I do."

"Wow, Donald. That's the most profound thing you've said all night..."

"I know, right? I say a lot of great stuff, but that line always brings them home. Now, when you wake up, Lincoln, there's gonna be a copy of my book on your nightstand. Use the steps to-"

"Wait, how did it get on my nightstand? We've been sleeping this whole time, right?"

"Lincoln, you may not have noticed before, but you're a really bad sleepwalker. And the bookshelf may have a slight indent of your face on it, too."

"Oh, boy..."

"But anyways, if you use the steps in the book, and you follow them, then YI think, no, I KNOW that you're going to get that video game. Goodbye, Lincoln."

"Goodbye, Donald," Lincoln said as they shook hands.

"Ok, now, I have to leave. Where's the front door?"

"Uh, down the hall and to the left?"

"Perfect. Thanks," he said as he left the room. Lincoln heard him walk down the stairs, then stop, then quickly run back UP the stairs as he burst into the room again.

"Right! I almost forgot! I need to wake you up."

"How do you do that?"

"Ok, are you ready for this? I've been practicing all night for this moment!"

"Um, ok? Go ahead."

"Ok, ok," he said, rubbing his hands together. His face suddenly became a grimace, and he pointed at Lincoln as he said the line.

"Lincoln Loud, YOU'RE FIRED!"

The room swirled around him, a flash of light, and Lincoln sat up in bed as his alarm clock went off.

"Woah..." he said as he held his head. He wasn't too sure if what had happened was dealt a dream, but reality.

"The book!" He said out loud as he looked at the nightstand. Sure enough, there sat Trump's signature book, face down on the table.

"Ok, time to get more in depth here..." He said, picking up the book.

"Ok, what page are they on? Wait..."

Nestled between the front of the book and the first page was a photo. He looked at it, and immediately recognized the two people in it.

"Donald Trump and...DAD?" he said shocked. Noticing that there was a note, he quickly read through it.

 _My rather new friend, Lynn..._

 _I want to again say congratulations on the newest member of your young family. I bet that Lori, I think her name was, will be your pride and joy, like my children have been to me. Here's a copy of my book, just in case you decide to quit your desk job and get on my career path. Again, congratulations on the girl. I hope there's many more children in your life to give you more joy._

 _From Your Good Friend,_

 _Donald J. Trump._

"Umm...I'll ask questions later," Lincoln said as he read through the note for a third time. "But that isn't important right now!

He picked up his walkie talkie and communicated with his partner.

"Clyde, come in!"

"I read you, Linc! You ready to get that new video game?"

"Oh, I think I'm pretty ready. Actually, I don't think so..."

"Really? You don't think so?"

"No...I KNOW I am!"

"Alright, Lincoln! Town square, here we come!"


	5. Chapter 5

"Ah, the annual Royal Woods Town Fair on the Square!" Lincoln exclaimed as he and Clyde walked through the crowd of people waiting to get into the fair. "Long name, I know, but besides that, it's got a lot going for it! Rides, a talent show, street dance, and dad's personal favorite, the Royal Woods "Dance Your Pants Off" competition! And, of course, the food vendors! Which is US this year!"

"Uh, Lincoln, I'm kinda having second thoughts about this business idea. I mean, do you remember what happened the last time we sold ANYTHING?"

"Look, Clyde, I know you have your doubts, but this time we're selling products, not advice! And besides, lemonade isn't going to cause severe bodily harm, is it?"

"I guess not... but we don't even know HOW to actually run a buisness, Linc!"

"Oh, I think I can handle it, Clyde. I had a little help from another friend last night..."

 **10 Minutes Later...**

"Ok, we're all set up! Now all we need to do is-"

"HEY! YOU TWO!"

Lincoln and Clyde turned their heads to see Officer Santana walking towards their stand. Instead of his police outfit, however, he had on a plaid jacket and a pair of oversized shoes. His face had also been painted white, with red lipstick around his mouth.

Clyde spoke to the officer first.

"Uh, hey, Officer Santana! Uh, don't mind me asking, but what's on your face?"

"-sigh- Every year, the police department uses their newest recruit as the fairs entertainment. So today I'm not Officer Santana, I'm Flipsy the Clown."

"Uh, ok? If you're looking for the money, Officer, we just started-"

"Actually, that's what I need to talk to you about. I'm shutting you kids down."

"WHAT?!" They both said in unison.

"Yeah, uh, we have too many stands set up so far. I guess the "Dance Your Pants Off" competition gets people hungry, doesn't it?"

"You can't shut us down! We already bought all of our stuff!" Lincoln said.

"Are you arguing with an officer, kid?" He asked, leaning in to face Lincoln eye to eye. Lincoln found himself in a staring match with the young officer.

"I...uh..." he stammered, trying to think of something to say. But to his surprise, he managed to hear a familiar voice with a familiar accent.

"Step 7! Step 7!"

"Huh?" He wondered, trying to figure out how to react. He thought back to the dream he had had, thinking off all the steps that he had learned. Suddenly, he remembered.

"Fight back!" He thought to himself. Thinking quick, he pulled out his phone and set it to camera mode. Before he knew what had happened, Officer Santana stepped back from the flash.

"What the heck was that?!"

"THAT was me taking a picture of you, officer...or should I call you, FLIPSY?"

"D-delete it!" He ordered. He had obviously not been prepared for the situation he was in.

"You know, I think I may keep it! Maybe I'll put it on Instagram, too!"

"YOU WOULDN'T!" The officer said loudly, trying to regain the upper hand.

"Hmm...maybe we could work out a deal here? I delete this photo and keep the stand, and you leave us alone?"

"-sigh- Fine, fine! Whatever you want! I still get my 80 bucks though, right?"

"Hmmm, I haven't posted to Instagram lately, have I?"

"GRRRR!" He snarled as he turned around, walking the other way. Lincoln deleted the photo as Clyde walked up to him.

"Lincoln, that was genius! Also illegal, but GENIUS!"

"Well, I wouldn't have done that if it weren't for my friend. He's the one who gave me the advice."

"Remind me to thank him later. But anyways, are you ready to make some money?"

"Heck yeah! Let's get cooking!"

"Uh, don't you mean, mixing?"

"Whatever you say, Clyde. Let's go!"

 **2 Hours Later...**

"Here you go, Dad! One cup of ice cold lemonade!"

"Thanks, Lincoln!" His dad said as he took a sip of his drink. "I'm gonna need this for the competition!"

"Uh, what competition?" Lincoln asked, feeling a sense of dread rising in him.

"Uh, the Royal Woods Dance your Pants Off Competition? That's right, Lynn Loud Sr is BACK in buisness!"

"Dad, you've already won the competition! Why are you doing it again 20 years later?"

"Well, for one, I felt like dancing today, and second, I have to replace my disco ball that your sister broke earlier this year! That was my prized possesion, Lincoln!"

"Well, I won't judge you for going out and looking like a fool. Be my guest!"

"Gee, Mr. Buisness, you seem to be on your high horse today."

"It's what I do. Move along, Pops, we've got customers in line!" He said, seeing 2 heads behind his father.

"Alright...you know, you still have an hour to register. If you think you can beat me, that is."

"It isn't that I couldn't, but I don't want to. See you later, Dad."

"Fine. Good luck, son," Mr. Loud said as he walke d away. Seeing the next two customers, however, Lincoln wished that he hadn't pushed him out.

"Flipsy! And, uh, Police Chief Fryer?"

"There he is, Fryer! The kid who was blackmailing me!" The clown said, pointing his finger at Lincoln.

"First off, officer, it's CHIEF Fryer to you, Santana. And second, I'll be handling this. Go back to your station."

"Aw, but Chief, those kids are reckless! Just 15 minutes ago a wild 5 year old spilled-"

"Are you disobeying orders, officer?"

"-sigh- I'll be by the balloon stand," he said as he walked away.

The chief leaned over the table, putting his hands down on the money that Lincoln and Clyde had earned.

"What are you selling, kids?"

"Uh, lemonade, Chief. Want some? On the house!" He said as he poured a glass, but the Chief held out his Palm to say no.

"Kid, blackmailing people is a 2nd degree misdemeanor in Michigan. And bonus, you did it to an officer. I'm afraid that-"

"Wait!" Lincoln said, trying to think of some excuse. Then, almost as if magic, the voice of the POTUS was in his head.

"Step 5!"

"Uh, step 5, step 5... "use your leverage!" He thought as he turned to the Chief.

"Officer, I think we may have a small problem here."

The chiefs eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer.

"And what would be?"

"Oh, nothing big. I think that we may have a bit too much money on our hands here, though. I know! Maybe YOU would want-"

"Kid, if your trying to bribe me, then it's not going to work. In fact, that's a 3rd degree felony in this state."

"Oh," Lincoln meekly said.

"BUT, if you really want me to take this money, then I guess that I'll help myself," he said casually as he swiped the kids money off on the table.

"Hey! That's ours!" Clyde said as the Chief ran his fingers through the bills.

"Ha! Not anymore!"

"You can't do that! That's theft!" Lincoln chimed in.

"Oh, so arguing with an officer, now? That right there is an automatic $200 fine!"

"What?!"

"You heard me! Now listen here, kids. It's good that you're running your little monopoly here, but you need to learn to respect officers."

"We do! We really do!"

"Really? When is blackmail, bribery, and insubordination considered RESPECT? Thanks for the cash, kids!" He said as he took the money and walked the other way.

"STEP 7! USE IT!" The voice in Lincoln head screamed.

"Chief Fryer! Wait!" Lincoln yelled as he chased after the officer, Clyde following close behind.

"Kid, I already told you, the money is-"

"Maybe we can work out some sort of deal? You can get a fair-"

"No."

"But...But..."

"But I WILL suggest a bet."

"Whatever you want, officer, we'll do it."

"Hmmmm... alright, alright, I got one," he said, almost laughing. "You kids know the dance competition, right?"

"Yeah? My dad is in it this year. Lynn Loud Sr?"

"Your Lynns kid? Wow! That's funny! But here's the deal. If one of you kids win that competition, you get your money back-"

"DEAL!" Lincoln said angrily as he stuck out his hand. IONE shake, and the wager was set.

"Oh, I almost forgot. If you lose, I keep the money AND your stand is closed down! Have fun!" He said, laughing as he walked off with the money.

Lincoln turned to Clyde, boiling with anger.

"Come on, Clyde. We have a dance competition to win."


	6. Chapter 6

**Attention: this chapter will include some songs that I genuinely think you should check out online. These are all part of my personal playlist, and they are actually good, unlike whatever crap Drake or Selena Gomez are putting out. Thanks**!

"Alright, all you party maniacs out there! We are only 15 minutes away from the world famous Royal Woods "Dance Your Pants Off" Competition! Any late registers need to report to the dance arena to get your name put into the competition!"

"Lincoln, are you sure that this is a good idea? You don't even know how to dance!" Clyde said as he and Lincoln walked towards the arena.

"Clyde, that officer is holding us hostage here! We need to fight back and get our money!"

"But we don't even know what this is! It could be a one on one competition! There could be sharks for all we know!"

"Not to worry, Clyde. My dad tells me about it every year. It's something called a "Dance Marathon." The goal is to be the last one dancing at the end. He said it only takes about 10 minutes, so it shouldn't be too hard!"

They walked to the registration booth, where the registration official looked oddly familiar.

"Rusty?" Lincoln asked to the red haired kid sitting behind the table. "What are you doing?"

"What?" He asked before looking at the two. "Oh, hey Lincoln! Hey Clyde! You guys registering for the competition?"

"As a matter of fact, we are. Sign us up."

"Ok, then! You're in! Just be warned, though: there is a LOT of competition this year."

"What are you even doing, Rusty? Shouldn't you be enjoying the fair?"

"Oh, who cares about the fair? I'm happy sitting here! Besides, I was forced to. My dad is in charge of the contest. But anyway, like I said, LOT of competition. Apparently there's a big cash award this year for the win-"

"CASH AWARD?!" They both said.

"How much is it?" Clyde asked.

"Oh, I forget. Anyway, I'm packing my stuff up! See you on the dance floor!"

"What? You registered too?"

"Oh, yeah! Anyone can register to do it. Its just usually won by the pro dancers."

"Alright, then. See you out there!" Lincoln said as Rusty ran out to the dance floor.

"Well, let's do this, then! Are you ready to dance your pants off, Clyde?"

"As ready as I'll ever be!"

 **On The Dance Floor...**

"Lincoln!" Lynn Sr said as he saw his son on the dance floor. "You decided to enter after all, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeah!" He said. "I want to win this thing!"

"Ha! Good luck with that, kid! I don't even think you'll last the first hour!"

Lincoln heart dropped a mile when he heard the last line.

"T-the first HOUR?!"

"Yeah! I told you this thing goes for 10 hours, didn't I?"

"I t-thought you said-"

"Alright, you dancers, who's ready to get groovy?!" The loud speaker boomed.

"Oh, I am! I am! Lincoln, go to the side. I have to focus."

"But dad-"

"Not right now, kid! Oh, that disco ball is MINE this year, I know it!"

"Whatever you say, dad..." he mumbled as he and Clyde walked to the corner of the arena. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar outline of Chief Fryer, standing beside Officer Santana. Noticing the kid, he mouthed a sentence to him.

"You're going down, kid. I know it."

Lincoln was about to make a witty remark of his own when the announcer came back.

"Alright, guys, WELCOME to the 50th annual Royal Woods Dance Your Pants Off Competition! This year, we have a returning champion in the ring! Please welcome..."

"This is it, Lincoln! They're about to announce your old man!" His dad said, rubbing his hands together.

"LAST YEAR'S CHAMPION, PROFESSIONAL DANCER WALTER DICARDO!"

"What?! What about me?!" Lynn Sr yelled as a tall, dark, and rather handsome individual walked into the arena. In his hands was a large, silver disco ball, with the words "2017 Champ" engraved on them.

"Ok, for all you newcomers to the contest, welcome and best of luck! And now, I will read the rules to all of you," he said as he turned the mics volume all the way up.

"Now, this is just like an old time dance marathon. If you fall to the floor, sleep, or even doze off, you're out of here! But, we also have a special twist for all you spectators out there!"

The crowd murmured as the announcer continued.

"Every 1 hour of dancing, you will choose 2 dancers to face off in a dance battle! While everyone else will receive a break, those two will go at it! The judges will rate the performance, and the lowest score is eliminated!"

"Oh, god. I hope we're not chosen, Linc!"

"Relax, Clyde. They're going to choose the two best dancers out there. And we are by far NOT good."

"And one final thing. Normally, a cash prize is not given out for the competition. BUT, seeing as this is the 50 year celebration, the town has managed to scrape together a reward for the winner!"

Lincoln turned to the Chief, who had a look of disbelief on his face.

"That's right! The winner will be walking out of the arena with not only the disco ball, but also... ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS!"

"WHAT?!" Chief Fryer cried out, but it was drowned by the gasp of shock that ran through the arena.

"O-one THOUSAND dollars?! Clyde! This is perfect!"

"I know, Lincoln! I'm even MORE pumped up than before!"

"Anyway, the other basic rules, no fighting, punching, forceful outs, yada yada yada. Now, are you all ready?!"

"YEAH!" The dancers screamed.

"Alright! Now our DJ here is gonna start us off with something a little slow here, a little "Say Something" by A Great Big World."

"What?" Lincoln asked as the music came on. He looked around, seeing that the others had the same confusion as he did.

"HA! KIDDING! No, I figured that since we're celebrating the 50th anniversary, let's CELEBRATE out here!"

The pop hit by Kool and the Gang began to play with its upbeat tune.

"ON THE COUNT OF 3, EVERYONE! 1, 2, 3! DANCE YOUR PANTS OFF!"

Lincoln and Clyde began to dance to the rythm of the music, trying to keep up with the beat. Meanwhile, Chief Fryer was not happy.

"One THOUSAND dollars?! They can't win! Then I it won't matter if I give them the money back, they could buy 10 stupid lemonade stands!"

"Sir, I don't think that it's likely-"

"Oh, be quiet, Flipsy. I need to stop those boys...but how?"

 **1 Hour Later...**

"And that right there was a little "Keep me in mind," by the one, the only, Zac Brown Band! Now, this competition would be nothing without a little history in it, would it? Get ready to do your Balkan leg squats, dancers, because the next song up is "Rasputin" by Boney M!"

"Lincoln, I think I've been dancing too hard..."

"Keep going, Clyde! We've made it farther than we expected! We can't just give up!"

"Alright, dancers, to start off the 1 on 1 dance offs, we've received a request to let a very special group of people choose the contestants!"

Lincoln looked up to the podium to see a squadron of police officers by the announce booth.

"Ok, Chief Fryer, who do you and your men choose?"

"Hmmmm...gee, that's a really tough one..." the crooked chief said with an evil grin. "Um, how about the kid in the orange polo and white hair..."

"Dang it!" He whispered under his breath as he looked to Clyde. He knew that Chief Fryer would pick him, and it was likely now that-"

"And I choose the old guy in the plaid shirt, too."

Lincoln turned to the man in the plaid shirt, panic kicking in as he realized who it was.

"Alright, Lincoln!" His dad said as they met in the middle of the arena. "Sorry I have to knock you out so early, but I'm winning this year."

"Oh, it's on, Dad. I'm pretty sure you can kiss the disco ball goodbye this year..."

"OK, dancers, the song for dancer number one is being selected! And the song choice is..."

"Something I know, something I know, something I know..."

"Pompeii" by Bastille!"

"Oh, thank god," he mumbled as the familiar entrance to the song kicked in.

"Umm...how do I dance to this?" He asked himself as he rigidly began to step to the music. Midway through the intro, though, he heard the voice in his head.

"First step, kid. Make it count."

"Step 1, step 1... AH HA! Think big!" He thought. He began to sway with the music, eventually beginning to swing with it. He hit the marks, he showed off, and before he knew it, the song was over.

"Alright! Good moves, dude! Now, let's see what the judges have decided!"

The police force nodded to each other in agreement, and writing a number on their scorecards, held them up.

"Alright, it looks like we have all 9s across the board! Oh, wait, everyone except Chief Fryer with a -6. I guess he really didn't feel the beat, did he?"

"Oh, you idiots! I thought I told you to give him the lowest score possible!" The angry chief told his staff.

"You did, boss, but did you SEE the kid move?! I didn't know children could even DO the worm!"

"Yeah! And he was busting out the crotch grab, too! Pretty risky, I may add, but it worked, didn't it?"

"ARRRRGH!" He growled as he snatched the police badge off of Officer Santanas uniform. Not being noticed, he chucked it at Lincolns general direction.

"Alright, contestant 2, your song is..."CenterFold" by the J. Geils Band!"

"Oh, I used to love this song! I could dance to it all-"

 **CLONK!**

The badge hit Mr. Loud in the back of the head, causing him to fall down in pain.

"Oh, and it looks I like we had a foreign object thrown at the contestant! Medical personnel are on their way out there!"

"Sir, how many fingers am I holding up?" A nurse asked as she held up 2 fingers.

"Oh, birds. Lots of pretty birds..."

"Oh, boy. Class 5 Concussion! He's seeing little birdies!"

"Oh, and it looks like the contestant is OUT! What a way to go for the guy!"

Lincoln heard the announcement and turned to where his father was being stretchered out.

"Dad? Huh. I wonder what that's all about. Anyway, I know what it's gonna take to win, Clyde!"

"Uh, let me guess: specially designed shoes that can make you dance?"

"No! I just need to think big!"

"Think big?"

"Yeah! You're gonna think anyway, so why not think big? We need to beat Chief Fryer, and we're gonna do that by dancing like there's a porcupine in our pants!"

"Uh, not a good analogy, but I'm with you! Let's win this thing!"


	7. Chapter 7

"And we are down to the FINAL 4 contestants in the Royal Woods Dance Your Pants Off Contest! And honestly, WHO could have predicted this? Last year's reigning champion, a couple of elementary school kids, and an elderly man!"

"I can still bust a move now and then!" An old man who was dancing on the floor yelled.

"Well, I'm sure that you can, Bernie! Our next song is none other than the classic hit, "Don't Stop Me Now" by the one, the only, QUEEN!"

"Clyde, we're doing it!" Lincoln shouted to his friend from the other side of the floor. "We might actually have a chance now!"

"I don't know, Lincoln!" He yelled. "My legs can't stand for much longer!"

"Oh, ho, HO, you kids think you can beat ME?" Walter shouted as he did the flamenco in the center of the arena. "Fat chance! I have NEVER lost a dance contest!"

"None of you are winning it!" Bernie shouted horsely. "I'm gonna be walking out of here with the dis- AHHH! MY HIP!"

"Oh, and it looks like Bernie is OUT!" the announcer said. "Good luck next time! If there is one, for that matter..."

"Watch it, you whippersnapper!" He shouted as he was carted off. "I'll be doing the jitterbug in my GRAVE!"

Meanwhile, on the outside of the ring, there was a rather interesting conversation between the police force. Not the good interesting, though.

"Boss, that is RIDICULOUS!"

"Please!" Chief Fryer said. "How is framing the kid for art theft ridiculous?"

"Boss, you've gone mad! So what if he wins the contest? He deserves it!"

"No, he does not! If you only knew what happened to me, then you'd understand..."

Long, awkward silence. After a minute, Santana spoke up.

"Uh, so what DID happen to you?"

"Oh, good question! See, it was 1989..."

 **28 Years Ago...**

"And we're done to 2 contestants, folks! This has been one heck of a battle so far, so let's see if it keeps up with our next song, "Johnny B. Goode" by Chuck Berry!"

"You're going down, Loud!" The contestant said as he broke out into the salsa. "No way you can beat a Fryer in the Dance Your Pants Off contest!"

"Your family may have won the past 6 trophies, Toby, but I think I got this!" A young man dressed in a plaid button down shouted across the floor.

"Dream on! I've got the stamina to go all night if I wanted! Good lu- HEY!" he shouted as Lynn suddenly ran into him.

"Sorry!" Lynn said in a obvious sarcastic tone. "I wasn't paying attention to where-"

"YOU LITTLE!" Toby shouted as he swung his fist. Luckily, Lynn ducked before the fist connecting, sending it and the person attached to it flying to the ground.

"IT'S OVER! A NEW WINNER!" the announcer shouted as Lynn looked up in disbelief.

"I won? I WON!"

"HE WON?!" Fryer shouted in anger as the disco ball was awarded.

"LYNN LOUD IS YOUR NEW CHAMPION!"

Toby sunk to his knees, defeated by Lynns underhanded tactics.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 **Present Day...**

"Wow," an officer said as he wiped a tear from his eye. "T-that was beautiful."

"Oh, man up, you idiot!" The Chief said. "You see why I want then gone? If that boy wins, my family name will be shamed even farther! Salt in the wound! Mark my words, boys, THE FRYER NAME WILL NOT BE A LAUGHINGSTOCK!" he shouted.

"Hmmm...when he puts it like that, it makes him sound almost reasonable... Ok, what to you suggest?" Flipsy the clown asked.

"Hmmm...it might be a little risqué, but it will work. Now, here's the plan..."

 **The Dance Floor...**

"I...can't hold on...Lincoln..."

"Keep going, Clyde! The next break is in 2 minutes!"

"Falling...can't go on...Linc, tell Lori that I-"

"BREAK TIME!" the announcer shouted. "2 minutes for water, and then back out there!"

"Wow, it took me 2 minutes to say that? I must be really thirsty..."

"Look, Clyde, I don't know low long we can keep this up! We're gonna fall soon! And we can't just give up the chance to play the game, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're-"

"STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!"

Lincoln turned to see Chief Fryer pacing towards him, want angry look on his face.

"Officer? Whats-"

"Hand over the stolen property, Loud! We know it was you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter, does it? Now, get in the handcuffs, and we'll-"

"I've done nothing wrong!"

"RESISTING ARREST! 2ND DEGREE MISDEMEANOR!" Chief Fryer screamed as he pulled out his tazer from his pocket. Before you could say "Blue Lives Matter," Lincoln was on the floor, twitching like a man on a sugar buzz. The last thing he remembered was officer charging towards their captain to stop the brutality, before wthe air turned pitch black.

 **...**

"Kid! KID! Wake up, wake up!"

Lincoln woke up to see a familiar face standing over him.

"Donald?!"

"Well, that's good. You're brain isn't totally fried," Trump said as he walked out of Lincolns vision. Getting up, Lincoln saw that he was in Donald's office, which had definitely seen better days.

"Congrats, kid. You've ruined your chance at 1000 bucks, and my office is trashed. How wonderful."

"Wait, how is this MY fault?! I just got TAZED!"

"Kid, when was the last time someone told you to resist arrest?"

"B-but I didnt-"

"Look, Lincoln, there are more pressing matters we need to deal with," Donald said as he sat at the seat behind the desk. "Our chances at winning the disco ball are diminishing! We need to get you back out there!"

"And HOW exactly do we do that? Like I said, I just got tazed!"

"Lincoln, you think that I just control your thoughts? I'm your brain! I control motor function, too! And thanks to me, you're standing up right now."

"WHAT?!"

"Yep! Well, you're leaning against a wall...and you just threw up. Oh, and you just got tazed again. Yeah, I think you're gonna need a LOT of my amazing health care after this..."

"Donald, I can't do this anymore!" Lincoln said as he sat down on the office couch. "I'm either gonna win this thing and die trying, or live through it and lose!"

"I think dying might be a bit of an overstatement there..."

"And this isn't even a big deal! I just want a video game! That's not worth all of this, is it?"

Donald paused for a minute before beckoning for his friend to sir in front of his desk.

"Come here, Lincoln. I have another lesson to teach you."

Lincoln, puzzled, sat down in a leather chair across from him. Trump followed suit, leaning back as he did so.

"Lincoln, I've taught you everything you'll ever need to know about buisness. Think big, handle profits, yada yada. But I didn't tell you the most important lesson of all."

Lincoln sat with his mouth closed. He was curious as to where this would go.

"Look, kid, the world is very, VERY unfair. People will always be out there r that oppose your ideas, your thoughts...and there will be people out there that just plain don't like you. I mean, I was never supposed to be where I am today, ok? All of those people probably thought I hate mexicans, or woman, or what not. But the truth is, I DONT. What I do hate though is-"

"Uh, Donald, can you get to the point?"

"What? Oh, sure. Lincoln, you are not in a good spot right now. You are being targeted by this officer for no apparent reason other than to stop you from winning. But you know what?"

He leaned over the desk and looked him straight in the eye.

"Lincoln, sometimes losing the battle gives you another way to win the war. Find that way and use it."

"But..."

"But what?"

"What about Fryer?" he asked, not even sure why he cared.

"Him? I don't care. I mean, if he would stop tazing us, that would be fine, but..."

"No, look!" He said, pointing behind him. The officers had apprehended Fryer and were currently giving him quite the beating.

"Hmmm...Lincoln, some people care more about money and fame than anything else. Like, say, Julious Caesar. Or Colin Kaepernick. And it seems that Fryer is among that crowd. It's a shame, really. Money is the only thing they did joy in. But what you do to him, that's up to you, Linc. Now, where was I? Oh, yes! YOU'RE FIRED!"

Donald snapped back to attention and clapped his hands. In an instant, the familiar rush came over Lincoln, and he soon found himself staring into the night sky.

"Lincoln! Thank god you woke up!" Lynn Sr said as he hugged his son. Looking around, he saw the Fryer sitting on the ground, handcuffs around his wrists. Despite that, he still wore a dopey fgrin on his face.

"Ha!" He laughed. "I win! You can't dance anymore, Loud, because you're tazed! Have fun watching the pro win again!"

"WE HAVE A WINNER!"The announcer screamed as a bang rang out, streamers falling.

"Yes! And you're now TWO time defending champion..."

"CLYDE MCBRIDE!"

The smile on Officer Fryers face was quickly replaced by confusion, then realization, then anger.

"NO, NO, NO! WHAT HAPPENED!"

"I thought I was the last one out there!" The former champion said as he ran over. "I didn't even notice he was still out there, so I walked off!"

"YOU IDIOT! My trophy! My family! My name..." he trailed off as tears began to we'll in his eyes.

"LINCOLN! I WON!" CLYDE said as he ran over to his friend, the giant disco ball trophy in his arms. In his mouth, he carried 10 crumpled up $100 bills.

"No, Clyde, WE WON! WE'RE GETTING THE VIDEO GAME!"

"YES!" The boys shouted as they high fived. But Lincoln looked past Clyde, at the now sobbing officer. The same officer that had tried to stop him, the same officer who had almost killed him earlier...

He got up and managed to walk over to where the officer sat. Fryer looked up, then turned away when he saw who it was.

"What do you want?" He asked, defeated. "You've already won. Why do you need to-"

He was stopped as he saw an extended hand with 500 dollars in it.

"Take it. I don't need it."

"What? But, you-"

"I said, take it," he said as he dropped the cash at his feet. He turned to walk away, only to hbe called back by the officer.

"Loud!"

"Hm?"

"...I went overboard, didnt I?"

"Uh, yeah, kind of..."

"I just wanted to make my family proud, you know? We had won for 6 straight years until then. I was a laughingstock. No one would think of me except as that guy who lost a stupid dance contest. And I guess that I took out my anger on you tonight."

"You did, don't get that wrong. Now, I gotta go talk to Clyde..."

"Alright, I'll let you go. Uh, in my pocket is your money from the lemonade stand, if you want it..."

"Keep it. Buy yourself a disco ball or something," he said, turning.

"Thanks, kid. You're alright. Tell your dad I said sorry, OK?"

"Will do, officer."

He walked up to Clyde, who was holding his money in his hands.

"I'm rich! I can buy Lori a new dress! Or perfume! Or-"

"Clyde! I thought you wanted the video game?"

"What? Oh, yeah! Hey...where's your money?"

"Oh, I, uh...gave it away. Someone needed it more than I did," he lied. Clyde didn't need to know where the money had gone.

"Oh. Well, I guess I could buy you the game. I mean, you were selfless and all and that should be rewarded..."

"No, no. That's fine, Clyde. I don't need the game. I already learned that Money isn't the most important thing to have. That would be friendship."

"Really? You gave all your money away to preach about friendship?"

"Hmm, no. That guy needed it for his own joy. But hey!"

He turned to face the dance arena, where the stillness lay over the rink.

"That's the art of the deal."


End file.
